special thanks to the laborious editing and electric dance moves from the one and only mister Nanda Maw Lin

garyneason live at pizzaman's and peachgirl's house.......1/4/09
compliments from jackie wilson ( www.imaginaryline.net ) and if you wouldlike to see the whole thing or other parts you can download it via zip from here: http://www.imaginaryline.net/external/garyneason.zip

.....mid afternoon... walking from one building to the next and the rain comes down like a giant wave! the center of Florence became a temporary oceanarium (though lacking jellyfish of course) it was fantastic..and only lasted for a short moment......yet i was getting unavoidably soaked.

for some reason i was carrying a sewing needle in my left hand..i believe it was in the side pouch of my nap sack.....and it poked me like three time the day before. it even drew blood.....maybe i was finally fed up with the fumbling stray sewing needle and i took it out pondering what to do with it next....maybe make a shirt with a raccoon on it this time! (like joels hat....the most amazing hat in the world. hands down. joel you should send me a pic of it as soon as you read this...i will post in on here.)

so while carrying this sewing needle it made me extremely uncomfortable because maybe a sewing needle is quite possibly the opposite of an umbrella. probably because umbrellas are much larger and can resemble a little canopy of sorts.....maybe even a fort if one collects enough......and a sewing needle....well sewing needles are easy to lose. it would probably take eons to make a fort from sewing needles.

so in result i kept thinking how much easier life would be...if for only at this moment.... if i had an umbrella. how the rain would pretend that i hadn't existed any longer......how my pants and suspenders and tie would stay much more dry (oh and yes.....I've started a day at school only on Tuesdays where i try and get people to wear ties......mostly it is for me because i have several ties but never wear them...and alas. her is my chance! i call it: TIE TUESDAY)
only a short moment thereafter i found an abandoned umbrella on the side of the street. it was red and petite....and it was beautiful.

i know what your thinking.......yes the umbrella had to have been there for a reason.....like it probably doesn't function properly?.....allows the water to fall right through?....and usually yes this is the case. but not today!......this umbrella was in both prefect aesthetic and working condition! and kept me dry....

i have this problem i guess....i think about umbrellas all of the time. and i have even come to a point where I've begun collecting them (im up to nine broken umbrellas!). maybe its my fascination with their use and purpose....how they are both a tool but also a fashionable garment... how when you dont have one and its raining you want one...... and when you have one but its not raining you dont want to carry it. personally i have this problem that when i am carrying an umbrella i habitually spin it between my finger tips.
to a point where i end up dropping it onto the ground and then the water realizes that im still around and that i was just pretending to hide....like a little turtle..... underneath my little canopy fort.....
and proceeds to rain over my head again until i pick up the umbrella.....

but the rain now has become more intelligent while being more keen to my routine and my little umbrella trick.....and figures out ways to make me a little more wet even with the umbrella still involved....like picking up the wind so the umbrella sways from side to side....thinking ......maybe i wont notice. or falling just a bit more heavily to the pavement....... so it makes a larger splash near my feet and jumps up onto the tops of the thin canvas of my shoes. but the most peculiar thing is when it gets underneath the loose cobble stones in Piazza San Lorenzo and makes a small lake. solely for that of a large heavy cobblestone to float on...so that minutes later when i walk over the stones.....the most buoyant one wobbles from one side to the next and shoots up a giant stream of water...like some sort of urban geyser!
not like old faithful....I've seen old faithful. it is much more boring then this. this has way more personal involvement. this is when you realize that the rain is following you. not just for a short moment...or even a day or two......but quite possibly from that point forth.....for the rest of your life.

  

          (sorry this is only a small piece of the image)

Friday, with a group of students from the university..... i had the opportunity to travel an art fair in the city of Bologna. the bus ride was epic.....the clouds were bellow us and the mountains stretched out like gigantic sand castles in an overly gigantic sand box. it made me question if i was in an autobus or an airplane......impatiently waiting to land so that i could once again plant my silly worn out newbalance shoes back onto the pavement.......

upon our arrival to the fair there were many people, places, and things to see (especially people-watching was in good spirits!).........it was crowded so that we all had to wait inline before making our ways through the entrance of this giant industrial spaceship/convention center/shopping mall/ airport/ field museum/ ice arena /very complex / complex.

inside i managed myself somehow...not fully sure really... to feel a little sleepishly..... (the story of my life not the sleepy part...or maybe? The assurance iguess)..... so then….eventually....... i found a café and drank two cups of coffee. one was very small and very strong and the other was mixed with milk. this made me slightly overwhelmed or a little confused for the next hour and one half because usually i am not too accustomed to this caffeinated and eye opening drink.

My confusion accompanied me with a heightened sense of mobility as well as a quickened gait to my step…… until eventually i began to slow down once again (but in a slightly different way from earlier) and proceeded..... writing or drawing or scribbling or stammering Into my little red book with a picture of a giraffe drinking from a pond pasted to the outer cover.... more or less about what i was seeing.

there was so very much to take in at this place....possibly too much so that…. at times…… i tried deliberately to forget about where i was and what all this stuff was suppose to be about….. passing me bye….. and try possibly.....or just maybe take a moment to remember who I was in comparison to all of this....right at this moment...during this moment. right then and there and.....maybe if i were to say now.....i mean...even as i am writing this....sort of now....or when this is being read ...or like five and one half weeks from now or previously a similar time before now.

i had a conversation with a friend at a certain point during a certain time on this certain day. there was a merry-go-round involved and it was going very quickly at times and very slowly at others. we sang two different songs to help us not become as dizzy as we could have been. ol mcdonald had a farm and row row row your boat in two part harmonies (felt natural i guess). Eventually after we felt very dizzy and laid our heads down pretending to take a nap…. Lorenzo (the painting instructor) came by and got on the merry-go-round with us (this was inside the building mind you)……I tired to get him to sing but he would only whistle …….he was pretty good at going round in circles but got dizzy right away…… this all somehow. being here and moving so quickly and slowly and remembering other experiences that i have had about moving in similar ways....helped me remember a feeling from a recent moment beforehand…….. maybe one week ago on a train near naples…….where I had my head out the window and thought to myself (while not exactly word for word) while I watched whole cities, sidewalks, squares, people, stop lights, oceans stretch by:

"i wonder if time is something that can be experienced in several different ways or something that is always at the same pace to that of the clock on my cell phone? or maybe its more valid to say: time is the way we choose to think about many different moments during the same moment…..and somehow imagine all of these moments together.....all at once. Maybe this is why we as human beings have trained our minds to endure abstract thinking......we as human beings may somehow convince ourselves that time is a series of times....one frame to the next…… a series of still images that in someway become similar to the continuation of a filmstrip. But also something..... resembling not the moment we are currently a witness to....but composed with several different series of movements, paces, rhythms, patterns, sensations that we can potentially be aware of simultaneously ....quantify, measure.....distribute............

to seek value…..something that is very close to the use of our memory and maybe being the catalyst to our imagination".

at this point i realized that art.... to me…. is something that...especially in this context at the bologna art fair. makes me feel inexplicably solemn.... i realized that art is something that is able to challenge the ways in which we identify with time. both as something literal and forward moving. but also as something broken....filled with metaphor.....always conveying new or old contexts in our own life and maybe an understanding of those contexts together…… in the present moment...... Something resembling many different perspectives of time and memory. ...... While taking into consideration our present state of emotion. then is it really possible to be fully present when surrounded by some many constructed timelines?

(sorry this probably doesn't make any sense)
maybe emotions then may resemble something as simple as a piece of fruit growing from the limb of a tree. nourished by the water and minerals from the earth collected from the water from the clouds collected from the water in the lakes and streams, ponds rivers and ocean.....maybe emotions are tolerant only when we have the opportunity to let them take shape. to become something physical. a language to acknowledge our own shape in result of the shape we allow to be........to be as a shape which......for an instant.......is representational of the experiences from the past........that we may consider in the moment to be just as valid.

maybe what im getting at is that i feel i myself am trying to understand this shape that is composed of many different emotions that i consider to be me, myself ………I. though at times are not necessarily which i had supposed to be real or valid..... until ive created some sort of an object from them…….(in)formation…a language i guess.

i then came across a painting that i liked very much.

well maybe it was more than a painting. it was fifteen feet wide and ten feet tall. the tones were all relatively neutral and composed mostly that of white and many shades of gray with a very small amount of black …..there was a woman floating in midair with her bed several feet bellow...... while being surrounded by an air-filled forest scene. maybe the opposite feeling inside a forest as if it were a feeling of being very small inside a forest.

the expression to her face was serene and complicated. To me displaying thoughts of acceptance with that of a flustered, peaceful but complicated gaze.

The image was titled: I want to be sedated.

in many ways to me she seemed to be transcending something. though im not sure exactly what ..... maybe life. Addiction, the forest. the time of being awake and the time of being asleep. or maybe this is best left said from the perspective of the artist. but surely to me this had something to do with a sense of both weight and gravity within a specific timeframe.

in a scientific way the woman's body was defying the laws of gravity.

in correspondence with the still image……. there were projections of simple white butterflies....possibly moths if debated...... but i concluded butterflies for some reason or another. maybe because butterflies are what we tend to associate with color.........and with the color taken out and the context if this image......made more sense.

there were anywhere from one butterfly to twenty....they managed to stay solely around and about the woman’s body. and throughout the duration of the looped video sequence they appeared to begin by coming out from the woman's mouth and appeared to end by going into the woman's pelvic region.

the woman’s eyes were present but the darks were not the darkest tone of the image. this allowed the scene to become something broader and less defined.... as less about the personality of an individual. with the figures laced pajamas holding the darkest of color value, the picture became more about the woman’s body.....and with the juxtaposition of the projected butterflies.....the woman’s body as interdependent within a state of gravity.

this gravity is what i believe drew me into the artwork and somehow inspired certain emotions inside me that then later compelled me to write about this. maybe it was a feeling of permanence by such a well composed still image arranged (excluding the projection) entirely of tissue paper loosely pinned to an abrasive surface.....pin for pin. layer for layer. tone for tone over tone for tone. white plus grey and black.

yet combined within a fluttering sense of movement, the wings flapping about....... rhythm, time. something holding tension between to points.

being fooled to believe that my own self could be compelled at ten feet above the ground……. bringing contrast to the place where my black shoelaces held the grey canvas shell and inner folds of my shoes warming and protecting my feet.....with their rubber bottomed soles bracing the freshly polished, white with specks of brown and blue…….industrial tiled floor.

while walking this morning on my way to school i found two roma tomatoes lying lonely on the side of the road. with striking contrast from bright red in a world of gritty flustered grey blotches and stains they became something much more then two roma tomatoes lost in the street.......as of now they are my new friends. Bev and Wilson. though tonight there will be a sacrificial ceremony where they will assimilate into the evening pasta. but as of now anything could happen: Bev is about three inches wide with a special luster to her fragile fibrous skin, has a peculiar accent maybe derived from North Carolina. a strong willed tomato that has been on several adventures all over the world. 

just three weeks ago while on a hot air balloon scanning the Greek islands for improper handling of the endangered species of Caretta sea turtle Bev spotted an off shore ship sailing to the west with the words "Panda Express" written just atop the barnacles plastered along the side. with an immense passion for Panda bears Bev navigated the balloon to reach alongside the boat traveling at a gusty 43 knots. her intentions as of yet were unknown. for the spontaneity of her character is what willed her into such a circumstance.

maybe she would capture a Panda as a pet for a brief period of time only to take it back to its mother land and release it back into the jungle? maybe she will join the crew for breakfast tea and discuss their adventures across the great oceans and beyond? 

 it turns out the crew had also spotted Bev, given that she was floating distinctively nearby with all the multi colorful patterns of her balloon reflecting the mornings sun like a brightly lit lollipop. but this was far from encouraging a sweet tooth hunger as one might have hoped from the grizzly faced and sun-beaten sea farers. for they were on a mission. to take these stolen pandas to Paraguay. to sell them illegally to seven different zoos. seven pandas. seven zoos.

immediately a blazing sound of gun shots rang from the ships deck. Bev was curios at first then heavily alarmed for the gravity of the situation came rolling in at full force. her balloon was made of a light weight nylon fabric which could easily become punctured under the velocity as something as small and metallic as that of a bullet. soon enough the balloons envelope became distressed and mangled to form the shape of a discarded, crushed, flattened and creased can of beans. though Bev was nervous and experiencing a mild form of anxiety. she knew exactly what to do from an old james bond rerun she watched half soberly three years ago during her sophomore year in college.

given that tomatoes have no appendages she figured that the approximately 40 foot fall would only cause a minor splash and that her delicate skin would manage to slide gently beneath the surface of the water. in order that the crew would not notice her tomato like demeanor she put on a emergency snorkel mask and scuba tank that was stashed in the balloons basket.....hoping she could pass as a government agent of some powerful and elaborate country to possibly frighten her intruders into making irrational and potentially lucrative mistakes.

soon she found herself in mid air watching the horizon slowly stretch out to a more elongated width until finally the world of salt filled sea life came splashing initially to a haze of bubbles and indigo blue. at first Bev hoped to escape lazily underwater a few hundred feet bellow the surface. though once 200 feet bellow she noticed something questionably odd. at first it seemed that a ship the size of something enormous, maybe that of a small mountain, was navigating easily through the thickening haze of the Mediterranean deep. upon closer inspection she discovered tiny reflections of light emanating from within the seemingly solidified structure in question. these then began to separate piece by piece into individual self sustaining shapes tightly nestled together to resemble some kind of unified terrestrial formation. it then became clear. at last it is the lost city of the turtle.

while closer and still closer yet. millions of gracefully tuned and rhythmically aligned turtles swimming lazily through the semi transparent water came into view.

while seeming to be oblivious to the giant vessel and its long complicated strides. just then Bev felt a strange sensation from behind the oxygen tank strapped snuggly to her back.... before even allowed the slightest of struggles she felt herself encased within something elastic yet as  solid as steel. in probability the shell of a turtle.

minutes later. thrust into the open water of blinding and in comprehensive light. a shadow passed over the vast rays glinting from a multitude of inseparable angles. a voice then pressed against the misty haze and echoed from every corner of little Bevs now fragile and overly reflective body....as if the shards of light were holding tiny questions that were meant solely just for her. though having no voice to answer. the voice held rhythm though was impossible to decipher. more similar to the feeling when one sleeps and dreams that they are waking to begin their daily routines.

with the weight of thousands upon thousands of words..... the light began to dim until completely absent from the once overly abundant white sun stroked sea.

soon images from thousands of memories began to unfold into the water before her. memories of her tomato plant mother and father. her two hundred and sixteen siblings that she knew entirely by name. the time she once skidded her knee when falling off a skateboard in seventh grade outside Pinehurst junior high. her first kiss with that yellow squash hooligan from 42nd street, Eddy Winslow. as if tumbling through a mist of remorse and nostalgic longing. the images faded and before her appeared a seemingly three dimensional and familiar shape. that of another roma tomato. with a delicate golden crown embossed with a very sophisticated floral arrangement the tomato spoke:"hey hie, the names Wilson. pleased to meet ya." Wilson had the draw of a Texan that would speak in the manner as if burdened by the having to lug about a dusty half paralyzed stiffened leg that wobbled anxiously from side to side which one may refer to as a gimp. (to be continued.....)

end of term multimedia installation

i now have a space heater in my room. it has evidently changed the whole dynamics ofwinter. before i was just cold all the time in my home because the heating system lacks efficiency. now i just flip this switch and things go crazy. i mean my room gets really warm.

right now i am a little obsessed with turtles. my last series of paintings were all about turtles (i dont think i really told anybody that). but now the new paintings are not about turtles as much so i think i have them swimming around in my thoughts more. there have been two instances now where a few friends and i have laid down on our backs, closed our eyes and had what is now coined "turtle time". yeah i know it sounds a little silly but thats kind of the point. it has been mostly about narrating an adventure through the perspectives as turtles while i direct complex and slightly humorous scenarios. i help instigate a turtlelike venue which gives each person an opportunity to express themselves spontaneously through the mind and the eyes of a turtle.

my friend Ali has been making hundreds of wax flowers for an installation with our multimedia class. today she randomly had one made from wood and i asked her why it was made of wood and not wax so she gave it to me. the same day my roommates cousin gave me by chance a man purse which his exgirlfriend made when she was a child and then gave to him. i now have the wooden flower in the man purse and hope to save them for a rainy day.

the sun is outside today. the buildings look like giant lego sets. i recall the feeling of pulling legos apart with my teeth when i was very little.while thinking that i probably shouldn’t be using my teeth for such practical matters (my grandma was always good at letting this be known) and at the same time knowing that i have no other choice.

words of the day: swim, swarm, swing, swell, sing, song, sut

Friday morning several students from the photography program came with the professors and I to Lucca to visit the Lucca Digital Photography Festival. as soon as we step off the train the rain begins to blanket the entire city for the following six hours. with my lacking of an umbrella and the thin canvas exterior of my shoes i managed to get extremely cold and wet. it didn’t help that each exhibit that we ventured to was based in a building that was so old that it hadn’t acquired any kind of heating ventilation. i manage to get cold enough to decide to leave early and catch a train hoping that ill find a little warmth on my way home so that my socks can dry.. the train turned out to be as cold as the galleries but i did manage to find an umbrella in the trash on my walk through the rain. not just some average flimsy run of the mill umbrella but an extra large burgundy plaid with the colors pond green and murky blue. it was as if getting soaked in the rain for the previous few hours prepared me for such a find and wouldn’t have meant the same otherwise.

now since the rainy season has officially begun this sturdy umbrella has proven especially useful. with it being hopelessly shaped like an extravagant walking stick i find myself habitually twirling the umbrella between my fingertips. either when it is closed or while its opened and stretched out over my head. this has helped me become more aware of the nervous habits that i tend to pursue with my hands. far to often i catch myself playing with my beard or messing up my hair.... flipping a coin between my finger tips or touching the cement buildings i pass along the streets.

really the thing that surprises me most is that im constantly looking at bicycles to see if they have locks wrapped around them. now this doesn’t exactly relate to the nervous habits i have with my hands but might shed some light on my habits in a general way. its not like i want to steal a bicycle that isnt locked properly. i mean i already have a nice bicycle that i love very much. infact last weekend i suggested that two of my friends and i all ride on the bicycle. at the same time....together..... and by golly it worked! Alonzo rode on the handle bars and Danielle sat on the seat while i stood and pedaled. we sang Christmas carols and a Tom Jones song.......it was much easier then i would have expected....well at least till the handle bars loosened and the bicycle was impossible to navigate.

but back to the habit thing. i think since i had my bike stolen a couple months ago that at first i had hoped to spot my old bicycle randomly on some street corner mingling with others. i thought sure....the brown seat would have been a dead giveaway. but after a few weeks i slowly began to give up. it wasnt like i went out of my way searching for the darn thing. it just sort of passed the time. and then eventually when i got bored with that i began passing the time with trying to spot vulnerable bikes. like the way mine was before it was stolen...yeah i admit maybe when i find one i will take it for a joy ride. not too far though. just around the block or something at best. but until then i believe this habit will continue to occupy my time. maybe its the same with the umbrella. ill probably wait until the rainy season ends before i stop twirling. and then what? back to touching the cement walls and knocking street pole with my hands to hear what kind of sound resonates?

today i ate the best sandwich that ive had since i got rid of my toaster oven back in kalamazoo. it consisted of mozzarella, pesto, sun dried tomatoes, black olives and onions. in the cafe they were playing late eighties love songs. somehow i knew all the words and sang a little.... especially too Madonna. the people working were very happy and sang too. lately i cant stop thinking about the Top Gun soundtrack and this little rectangular pink boombox that my mom owned when i was a kid. i use to play the tape down in our basement as loud as it would go. sometimes my brother and i would take all the pillows off the couches and make a pile in the middle of the room. then we would position the exercise trampling so that we could jump off the couch onto the trampling into the air singing Highway to the Danger Zone! at the top of our lungs and land safely onto the cushions. this is before i stopped believing in Santa Clause. i aso memorized the bart simpson deep deep trouble song during this period of my life. actually i rapped it a little just last week. somehow both have managed their ways into my permanent memory.

me and Lorenzo after lunch in La Verna

end of term - fall 2008 - photo installation

so maybe i mentioned that my fake tooth (from a sledding accident when i was twelve) had broken on a piece of very hard bread (which is funny because the Japanese girl i named my new bicycle after....Brunina....thought when she first met me that my name was bread. so she calls me pane...you know the Italian word for bread. my roommate Andrea thought my name was bart when we first met. he confided that this went on for two weeks.

I've been able to keep the tooth in my mouth during the day...... thankfully.....(somehow...long story) but i need to take it out to eat. so one day when i was taking a break in this park near the school and having one of these chocolate pastry snacks that i am a little obsessed about i had to take my tooth out. usually i use my front shirt pocket to hide my little toothless secret but today i hadn't the right shirt for this and thought that i didn't trust my trouser pockets too well because they haven't been washed in a few weeks (i know my mom had taught me better then this.....but really its a life style that takes more hard work then people tend to realize). so i decided hesitantly to set the little porcelain tooth on top of my backpack. thinking yeah i wont forget..... no problem.....but the thing is when i eat these amazing chocolate pastries i tend to loose grasp upon reality.... doesn't chocolate sort of do that to anyone?

this then gave me the perfect state of absentmindedness to send my tooth sailing across the ground which was covered in thousands of similarly shaped, some tiny some not, tooth colored stones (i.e. teeth).

literally for a full hour i crouch on my hands and knees afraid to move much more then an inch for i may step on the wrong stone or kick some dirt around...sort of half freaking out and half thinking that i was dreaming. the reality of situation had not fully taken hold because i had not as of yet had to try and communicate to people without having to open my mouth of fear that i will eventually rely on, for the next two weeks plus, a strong Appalachian accent so that people wont be as embarrassed for my awkward displacement into the world as "the guy missing his front tooth".

after 45 minutes i decide the only logical route now is pick up every single last stone, pebble, tooth and throw them into the grass nearby. eventually people began taking notice in my virtues and the awkward stares nearby made me feel even more pressured that if i fail...they will be just as upset as myself. so this is when i decided that it will be highly appropriate that if/when i find this tooth, this possible center of the universe. i will have to cause a scene.....not anything to complex or over dramatic....but i will hold the tooth up to the heavens pronouncing the day to be saved and glorious all on account of my good/bad luck.

maybe three minutes after this image runs through my mind i find the shiny white porceline vanier and try to cause a scene but just hold it up really high with a look of disbelief on my face.....no one realy even noticed except this one women that sat drinking her coffee. i pack up my things and grab my bicycle by one hand walking slowly and entirely full of accomplishment. i decide that this lone women deserved some sort of explanation.....so i show her the tooth from a distance, which now that i think of it probably didn't make a whole lot of sense when i grin and pretend to put the tooth back in and out of my mouth (which of course i waited to wash it before really putting it back in. i mean the cleanliness of trouser pockets and the graveled floor of a park are maybe completely different things from a distance but maybe more similar then one may think when viewed from the perspective of a treasure hunt). She looks at me very confused and maybe panicked and seemed as if to say "why me? i really was just bored watching him sift through the sand and pebbles, i don't care" after this she frowns pretending not to know me. well....... i didn't know her either.

now i have my new tooth sent from my amazing dentist in Michigan! i actually managed to loose the old tooth one hour before i had the new tooth cemented in. i tried to panic momentarily but managed to calm myself down. I've lost much of a craving for bread. its funny when getting use to a broken tooth how a new fixed tooth feels even more awkward. but i eat more chocolate because i am again more confident with the alignment of the universe.

words of the day: chestnut, turtle, basking, miniature, thermostat  

friday (ok really two fridays ago i started writing this last week and got distracted) four of us from the school pile into Lorenzo's, the painting teachers, car and drive two hours to the rock where Saint Francis received the stigmata. I now know that San Francisco is named after this man. Years after his death a devotional center was created upon these giant cliffs, with several tiny chapels, churches and trees. we take lunch into the hills and watch the rolling country side with crisp browning leaves we sit. Lorenzo makes a joke about my feet and mentions that he thinks they are very strange. maybe just passing the time.....maybe trying to point out that somehow our humanity is full of all kinds of strange and different shapes and sizes...maybe he is right...maybe i just have strange feet.....i mean have you ever seen me climb a tree? im not one to boast...but hey.... since were on the subject im a pretty good tree climber.

see Lorenzo is very peculiar person.....difficult to describe in words but for a lack anytwo better fitting: "big kid" may be the most appropriate (he must be seventy by now)....i guess any of the really interesting painters or painting instructors that i have run into over the years sort of somehow blend into these two words....... i want to tell him that within the last six months three different people have mentioned that they thought i had beautiful hands....ha! whens the last time somebody told you that you had beautiful hands (Lorenzo).... better yet, hands that would be perfect for mountain climbing....maybe even professional modeling? its really true..well maybe not the modeling......but my wits always seem to be somewhere else when i need them most...

we spend maybe two hours between the woods and the tiny village and make our way back into the countryside. fighting sleep i remember the feeling moving with the car in the hills on our previous ride there. Alonzo and Jackie get motion sickness easily and i usually dont.... at least not anymore....but i began to remember all the airplane rides until i was eleven and those little airsick bags....yeah i was one of those kids you never wanted to sit next to on the plane.... i mentioned to them since they are trying not to become motion sick that maybe i will try the opposite. maybe this will help the situation? instead it just made me very relaxed and while having the window down listening to John Coltrane "ballads" and breathing the crisp Tuscany air watching the autumn trees stretch out and begin rolling through the distance. i find myself feeling incredibly at peace. 

upon arrival of the Fransiscan community Lorenzo changes the music to opera.....we sit in a parked car for the duration of the song which he gives more volume. we sit in silence as we all either close our eyes or stare out the window. not a movement until the song was finished. no need to even attempt to communicate to one another....we are all in our own little worlds...and it was a great contrast of sharing the busy streets of Florence..... not a sound beyond the laser in the cd player reading the inscriptions on the flimsy piece of plastic rotating around and around. 

half way back to florence i convince Lorenzo to drop us off at a hiking trail where we will climb into the mountains and camp for the night......actually i was sleepy and he was probably more excited then i was and woke me up saying that we are now in the state park....that the trail was not too far.....this is when i remembered that i had brought my sleeping bag. as soon as we arrive a small sprinkle of rain challenged our aspirations, yet we say our goodbyes and left Lorenzo with a wave of our hands as he drove off. ok actually we all gave him hugs. Jackie seemed deterred from the rainfall and also continued on to Florence and mentioned that the image of her warm cosy bed kept coming to mind. she didn't not realize that we truly love sleeping in the cold rain.....(?)

we had about two hours left of daylight and about a two hour climb ahead of us. Kate gives Alonzo and i Native American beaded jewelry to tie around our heads. we collect walking sticks on our way. we begin to be in touch with our spirit animals....alonzo the boar me the squirrel...kate the guinea pig.

the contrast of trees hides the suns setting upon leaves of yellow orange green and red. through the forest upon the outskirts the leaves dance and light up. they look as though they are on fire. periodically we play rock paper scissors for what way we should turn when we stumble upon a new path. thankfully we know that all we need to do is continue upwards. but when the opportunity arrises to play rock paper scissors.....its hard to pass up.  

 we see wild boars and clutch or walking sticks tightly. Lorenzo said there would be no wild boars but only wolves. we decidedly accepted the fact in  our minds that there may be wolves but the boars put us on edge. but alas no squirrel or guinea pigs (sad face).

at the top we find an electrical station with minor disappointment. it is dark and rainy. we decide to navigate around the florescent lights and find a plateau with rolling hills stretching off into the distance. through bushes and tall grass we manage to find a spot that seems promising. even though we discover civilization a stones throw away we manage to find the rugged outdoors again.

after thirty minutes in our attempt to start a fire in the rain we succeed and the rain stops. our clothing dries and we talk about buttered popcorn from the theaters, candlewax sculptures of dead presidents and the previous dream i had about how all of my hair grew really long until i couldn't walk any longer because i would cumbersomely trip and fall. Alonzo mentions that we are hovering in outer-space on a planet.....we then look up into the stars and forget to talk for almost a full ten minutes. this is when everything could be heard. the moisture from the plants seeping into the soil. the gentle sway of the wind. the humm of an electrical building in the distance. these are when some of the best conversations begin.

(                                                                                             )

growing tired and assuming that the rain had stopped for the night we decide to lay atop the rain fly to stay off the damp earth. about an hour after falling asleep we are awaken by a sudden downpour. our sleeping bags become wet and cold. i manage to finagle (yes i agree...amazing word!) the rainfly around us like a little protective cocoon. in the morning the mist sits over the hills. the fire is back to flames. the trees and bushes are a different color. our feet are wet and we go hunting for boar.    

phrase of the day: pumpkin soup tastes like novemeber

good week. Was paid to go to Milan and help set up an exhibition for three SACI alumni. Got put up in a 3 star hotel with one of the artists he snored like crazy but I had headphone and listened to Bill Evans while slowly falling sleep. Made my way to lake Como and got lost in the forest after finding this abandoned crumbling stairwell that led to overgrown plants and a fence the "trail" seemingly stopped until I climbed around the fence, through thorns and webs of plants up the steep grade of the mountainside till I arrived at another fence, and then another...which I climbed over to find an old vineyard that now housed several mansions and the ground keepers who were friendly but astonished that I was on the property and asked how I got there.....I wanted to say by parachute but was more vague and said something about a stairwell that made no sense to them because really the stairwell didnt exist unless you crawled through the woods abit. They opened the electronic gate for me by remote.

Lake Como is in the shape of a Y. there are mountains and stray cats. And old women that try and convince you that the bus is better then the water taxi. I find a beach to swim with a dead seagull and an abandoned sweater hung to a fence. Just the sun and the mountains and the loose stones. The small frail clouds and the pastel color of tiny homes in the distance.

My friend little ray came to visit on Friday..... well 2 in the morning on Saturday. I managed to arrange a bicycle for him and found a new one myself (!). We ride bikes very fast and pretend that the streets are little racetracks. For upon meeting ray at the train station I made a little sign that read "water buffalo" on it with each letter painted in a different color. So he wouldn’t walk by me. and i could walk him to his limo with the bikes stashed We find piazza sant spirito and watch crazy drunken men try and dance to jimmy hendrixesc guitar playing with amplifier... one Hispanic man was singing what must have been some ancient lullaby that he learned as a child...he started tapping the acoustic guitar with his fingers pretending to be famous. I didn’t see him start tapping his head against it but ray said later that he had.

Then my mom and our friend Bonnie came to visit and got me too do mad amounts of traveling for the week. From Rome to Venice and my third time to the ocean to swim and hike.....to lie in the sun and fall asleep. To eat pizza and climb to the top of an old castle.... we also took this really amazing tour into the Chianti hills and sample very expensive wine. Our tour guide was funny and would laugh a lot. My favorite part was the wine cellars and the smell of French oak barrels holding 300 bottles. I began to drink wine again....and I eat too much pasta. Its not really a cliché it just sort of happens...its everywhere.

I had a traumatic tooth incident. My fake front tooth became broken after biting into a piece of very hard bread. it fell out on the counter top and lay there mocking my toothless grin/ frown...depending on how it changed from one to the other. Its interesting to me how I had become so incredibly self-conscious from this. We associate so much with our mouths from conversations.......actually I superglued the tooth back together and into my mouth...I think that this isn’t the best protocol...but hey sometime to improvise is the only strategy. This lasted like two days then I had to buy some polygrip. I've become very antisocial in public from this...for two whole days I didn’t put the tooth back in because it would just fall back out whenever I would have to speak with anybody.. like to order food or something I would say something practically inaudible...maybe it would have been better to have written little notes on the palms of my hands, hopefully this week I reach a more permanent smile. My mom reminded me of the time my brother threw a remote control for the television at me on thanksgiving when we were very young and it knocked one of my baby teeth out. At least in that situation I had somebody else to blame…sorry jon.

Tonight I went to a concert at this wonderful theater. Five years ago I saw a show at the same place. Each time i've been there it’s managed to be extremely stuffy and warm. This has continually caused me to be sleepy. Three times now. The same place. very sleepy. this time I decided not to fight it and just let myself drift off halfway through. I woke up just as the performance was ending. the violin, cello and piano become so unbelievably clear and warm (maybe coincidence).. when waking up from a moment of sleep sometimes everything can become really fuzzy and impressionable....I tried this once with an alarm clock that could wake you up from the cd you put inside. It never really worked well because I just began disliking the music that would make me get out of bed. but naps are a lot different anyhow.

I've been having dreams about miniature dachshunds and dolphins. fixed my new bike for the seventh time. made a drawing on a yellow wall in a little vending machine place where you can buy instant pasta of a bird holding an umbrella. bought a bottle of wine today from 1997. cut half of my beard because it was making me head look too round. found a stuffed animal bird on the street and hid it under this little sidewalk level window so I could come back and get it but my roommate found it and brought it into the apartment. he thinks it is his but I got him to split it with me. i'm trying to get Monday Thursday and Saturday. its blue and red on one side and black and white on the other. printed my first photograph since I’ve been in Italy of a man sitting under a tree. I can’t stop thinking about how everybody I walk pass on the streets has so many different stories to tell....or different tastes for food. or different ways of holding their armpits when waiting in line. or different gelato choices (like chocolate or lemon) of different ways of highfiving (sometimes mostly a confusing look in their eyes, sometimes really excited) i played pick up sticks in a park for the first time it was at night and with candles and blankets and the candles were in the shape of a flying saucer and an alien. I don’t know why they did this but then the candles were set free across the pond and continued to burn and float and burn and float...sort of a confusing and/or gratifying sight to see. not sure why though.

this weekend i managed to find my way back to the Cinque Terre. getting stung by jelly fish with hearty smiles, jumping off thirty foot cliffs, hiking in the dark to a naturalists (nudist) beach to lay our sleeping bags and listen to the tide push and pull the heavy rocks carelessly bellow us.

just after sunset, before we had reached our destination, we watch from atop a large bluff the ocean like a giant metallic dish, the colors split apart and bend into tiny little pixels, barely visible currents in repetition, looking far off over the horizon the continents held together by the imagination of some belief in certainty, some buried memory. seagulls cry into the air, maybe laugh at our hiking outfits. no one says anything back. i have butterfly's on my shirt flying about an old wicker basket.

at night the beach we sleep on is the color of gray. or a mix of black and orange and white. maybe full of dust or like an old daguerreotype photograph....something rummaged out from a relatives attic. we sleep on rocks. my air mattress is mended with a tire tube patch. has proven unable to function correctly. the wind pushes the tall grass behind our heads. the grapes smell ripe and smashed to the earth. every thirty minutes i wake up thinking the clouds will open rain onto our dry slumbering faces.

in the morning my friends wake up well rested. my back hurts. i do some stretches and notice a fully tanned bald man naked on the rocks forty feet bellow us washing himself with a towel.
soon after we pack up our bags to continue the trail onward towards the remaining two villages. instead of going back up the mountain we thought there must be a short cut. we then stumble upon a tunnel with two Italian man eating breakfast near the entrance both wearing the most amazing mustaches that I've ever seen. they stop us and explain the fee for shaving an hour off our hiking time to Corniglia. they also explain to us that the naturalist beach is what the fee is mostly for....the bald man makes more sense...... we talk him down from fifteen euro to five. his flannel was the most beautiful in all of Italy. we told him he was lucky to have found such flannel.

the tunnel was of an old railroad a mile long. the air was dank and sharp. the sound of water trickling down the interior walls. each brick twenty five feet above us perfectly set by hand. Jeff mentions how insane it would be to actually have to build something like this.....where would you begin to start?

i think about how each moment, no matter how far in the past or how distant
only becomes real...or takes shape once we are there to interpret it....once there is a witness.... like the creation and purpose of this particular tunnel, the many times its been used, the experiences others have gained.....at this moment for some reason these all seemed inconsequential...as if the tunnel was created solely for our presence.....only this specific moment. the function now for the thousands of bricks, metal rods and concrete all shaped, smoothed and rounded together....in this moment with it hanging far above bracing the earth from caving in over our heads...its sole function was not to come crashing down on us while guiding our way to our next destination.

once we arrive to the end there is a little white button that needs to be pressed to open a red metallic gate. at this exact moment a train was passing overhead from the modern segment of railway nearby....while the door continued to open, more and more white light began to spill into the dimly lit space from the sunny afternoon sky. an amazing rush of air then came tumbling in threatening to knock each of us to the muddy earth or maybe back to where we had come....soon the wind diminished and the sounds began to fade of riveted train tracks bracing a giant body of steel carrying its many passengers and moving quickly through the distance...we thought that maybe it was just a lucky coincidence.

A Comparison in High-Fiving

Brought to you by the Association for Social-liberation
from the Hazards of Atypical Winking (ASHLAW)

Dear newest member of ASHLAW,

A high five is a celebratory gesture made by two
people, each raising one hand to slap the raised hand
of the other — usually meant to communicate mutual
satisfaction to spectators or to extend
congratulations from one person to another. The arms
are usually extended into the air to form the "high"
part, and the five fingers of each hand meet, making
the "five", thus the name. In addition to the standard
high five, several variations exist in order to add
uniqueness to the experience and to maximize
satisfaction. (ie. amazing!)
If one initiates a high five by raising a hand into the
air and no one consummates the celebration by slapping
the raised hand, the initiator is said to be "left
hanging."(or feeling bummerish) This is considered to
be a somewhat embarrassing faux pas. Initiating a high
five excessively can also be considered a faux pas.

The wink is an intentional facial expression made by
briefly closing one or both eyes. A wink is a form of
semi-formal communication, which indicates shared,
unspoken knowledge. (while easily posing all sorts of
unrecognizable confusion)
A "naughty wink" can silently indicate a shared secret,
such as if a salesperson gives a customer a brochure
and says, "Here you go... it's free". Infrequently, it
may also mean "got it" or "yes, I understand".
In Western cultures, women may wink to men they are
interested in dating, but this has grown out of
fashion, though still used occasionally. Winking is
also done by men to women, often to convey a message
of "I like what I see here" or "Hello, I am interested
in getting to know you". In most male-female contexts,
it has come to mean communicating explicit sexual
intentions. A stranger male's winking at a woman is an
explicit invitation for sexual act. (thus winking can
sometimes be incredibly dangerous and potentially
disarming)
In Latin American cultures, winking is also a romantic
or sexual invitation, but can also be used a casual
sign of recognition or of acceptance of behavior among
friends. In Nigeria, winking is a signal for
children to leave the room. Many Asians, especially
Chinese and Indian women, consider winking to be
rude.
Not all humans are able to wink voluntarily, and some
can only wink one (usually the non-dominant) eye but
not the other, while others are far better at winking
one eye and find it awkward to wink the other.

It is then conclusive that high-fives have a far
"higher" potential in initiating a more wholesome and
unifying experience in comparison to the derogative
implications that may be brought about through
winking. For instance if one were to teach their
children to utilize one of these particular gestures
for recess activities or socializing with friends it
would be surely unanimous that high-fives are much
more accessible and versatile for a wider range of
friend-making and social dynamics. Not to say that
winking has only negative implications for the
population as a whole but it does offer a narrower
range of physical expressions given the cultural
taboos that have been implied throughout the several
past centuries and prospectively the many to come.

Not to mention that the intense energy of high-fiving
may only further the inspirational feelings embed in
the human spirit while surely cultivating a more developed sincerity
to life which may be useful when trying to
be an insightful and positive person. It has been
documented that several individuals, in fact millions,
have refrained from substance addictions including:
coffee, tobacco, alcohol etc……(actually there are
three hundred and seven more but you get the idea) and have
become healthier and more sociable persons merely
through the humble and glorifying act of
high-fiving.(!!!!)

Hence the founding of High-Five Camp Florence 2008
coming into full swing starting this Saturday October 11th.
Bring friends, family or complete strangers
anyone is welcome to the wonderful world of
high-fives…..but surely bring any stray helplessly
confused miniature poodles from around the city for
they are in the utmost need of attention out of any of
us.*
Techniques such as "the double handed"…."the top to
bottom"…."the midair slow-motion snapshot"……"the
no handed lastminute
fallonthegroundlaughingeventhoughyourleg
reallyhurtsbad"…."the relaxed likewhat?icandig
noproblemamazing"…..and many others will be
practiced until the utmost perfection is achieved. For
we as an association are not out to convert social
expressions from one of lesser to one of plenty. We as
an association are brought together only to convene
with the deterioration of each and every culture spanning
the globe….the impossible
confusions brought to gender, age, race and social
class……and at last the pointlessness and
confounding autocracies brought through the useless
and outdated practice of winking.

-Eddy Winterbee
President, Humanitarian and co-founder of ASHLAW



*it has been brought to our attention that poodles have
been viciously spreading the act of voluntary
winklement throughout our city streets with such a
fervor that a great epidemic has been taken sight. it
has been spreading into our schools, libraries,
grocers and even our homes and has been dealt with as
a grave concern. their fluffy demeanor has only till
now given them sizable cover until the 2006 act:
Engaged Poodle Syndrome and the Potential
Deterioration of the Human Species Through the act of
Winking (EPSPDHSTW ).

made a long venture to the other side of the city today in hopes to find the most perfect area rug for my bedroom. something brown with green and maybe yellow flowers. but all i could find were several antique draping rugs that cost way too much money. i cant tell you how much of a difference a rug will make in my life. something potentially with a little elevation to it. fluffy or shag-like. so i can lay on the floor in the center of my room and stare at the ceiling while being oblivious to the cold colorless tiling just centimeters bellow. I've come to realize that everyone probably should own some kind of rug. even if they already have carpeting in their home. a good rug can fill the space better then upholstered furniture with matching window curtains. or assorted tropical plants in color coordinated ceramic pots....it can open the space up to colors and pattern-dynamics that were never thought possible. if you were to relate it to food it would be the butter for the bread. or the icing on the cake..... if you got tired of sitting in chairs or sleeping in beds you can always resort to the rug space. something neutral but conveniently located. possibly the most transitional space indoors and potentially the most tranquil.......well depending on the rug. a rug made of wool may be too itchy. or a rug made of silk would slip from under your feet. or maybe it just depends on your mood. sometimes having more than one rug can be a good thing. you could even collect rugs to line the walls! definitely wont have to worry about falling into things. could even wear sunglasses after sunset with the room dimly lit b y a single candle. it would also be that much more inviting to invite your friends over for roller skating parties and at the same time you would surely save on heating bills in the winter.

twenty six blue buttons
scattered on the street corner
a five minute walk from here

the feeling that you get
when surrounded by several
strangers in a very small room

making time in the afternoon
watching shadows drift
slowly along the rooftops

each one a phrase pinned
to the bottom side
something like "lacking of a better word"

or "time to take time to take time"
the sound of a mosquito drifting
through the air

still this way lying in the open
sitting graceful as the stem
and the brittle corners of a recently fallen leaf

apprehensively arranged
the colors turn slowly to
the colors of the pavement

broken, dreary, plastic at times
waiting for the sunlight
sending shadows from bare limbs

memories like a paper envelope
or the dog eared corners
of an old phone book

discarded box's litter the
sides of rusty handled trash bins
and always the sound of rain

a polaroid photogrpah of a curly haired dog named nelly.
a lime green sweater for two euro at the market smells not of lime but of age.
my bicycle makes far more sounds then it use to.
i gave an indian man some of my laundry detergent today for free.

tiny pieces of paper lost in my pockets and scattered about my room.
the sunset is only possible by the river.
people wink more here then using highfives.
ive now talked fourteen people into a highfive. eight were strangers.

from the window of my house the weather looks like buildings.
from the street it looks like streets.
from the river it looks like rivers.
from the park it looks like park benches.

overcast and the air is light and clear. the lacking of shadows makes everything more transparent. its feeling very weekendish. easy to take time and do nothing.

standing near piazza san lorenzo......the sun finaly steps in front of the clouds. that angle where it is difficult to see much beyond a great draping cloth of light. while the rain continues to sprinkle downward. one of those questionable moments with the sun and rain together. maybe easier just to admire such contradictions.

puts into perspective my experience inside the museum today. to me impressionism is both confounding and poetic. i tend to enjoy images that portray light as the most valuable source of information. particularly between shadows and the object that is casting. as of now Alfred Sisley's paintings. anything to do with snow and trees. for i find myself to be nostalgic in the fall. and yes michigan snow is something i have a considerable longing for.

what draws me towards impressionistic painting is both its defiance towards the literalisms capable in photograhy while essentially expressing a nuance that is similar to the making of a successful photograph. something composed almost entirely to a rhythm.

what i tend to enjoy about a photograph is its compositions with light and their distinctive gradations. yet to me impressionism conveys an impenatrable quality that seems evaisive of depth both by lacking contrast while still implying gradation. something essentially more transparent then photography when under-analyzed yet possibly more two-dimensional when over-analyzed.

my shoes have several holes in them. when it rains i feel all the water in the streets. it is sometimes refreshing to have wet socks. sometimes it is better to have dry socks.

i have now moved into my painting studio! the school was generous enough to carve me out a space. now i make it into my house. stacking boards around me. table lamps and thickly painted paper stuck to the walls. it was becoming

 to much of a mess to paint inside my room.

the building is old with tiny dusty nooks to pass by. there is a rooftop terrace that we are not supposed to view from. last night the security guard came at 11:30 and smiled at me. motioning that the hours for use have expired. its good again to be alone at times in so much space. i keep remembering my life in East Hall. having a studio so large that one could run laps if they got bored. stuck in the basement till two in the morning sometimes till six. that feeling of being isolated but having so much space and time to deal with. making puppets from ductape, clothing patterns and a million miles of string.

maybe i will hide in one of the many cabinets to avoid the security guard next time. maybe i will wait on the terrace and sing opera to the moon. or run around the building flailing my arms like a lost pigeon. or maybe i will just make a sign and tape it to the door reading "do not disturb".